


I'll take your soul out of your body

by Anonymous



Series: The Count's Magician [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Facials, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Second Person, Possessive Behavior, Self-Indulgent, The dumb shit idiot that likes writing indecent yet romantic Lucio/Apprentice fics, There's no given name, This one is slightly more romantic than the other one because I was feelin' some type of way, Yep it's me again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 18:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17412143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Lucio has never said (and you suspect will never say) that he loves you. Not that you can quite tell for sure if he even does feel that way. But something he does say with some frequency is, “You love me, don’t you?” and less a question as it is a statement of fact.





	I'll take your soul out of your body

**Author's Note:**

> **HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LUCIO!**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah, this is the same anon that wrote "[I will take your heart for mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17362577)". What can I say, I'm a thirsty flower (-:

Lucio has never said (and you suspect will never say) that he loves you. Not that you can quite tell for sure if he even does feel that way. But something he does say with some frequency is, “You love me, don’t you?” and less a question as it is a statement of fact. In some ways, it almost seems like he’s making sure you haven’t changed your mind, and there’s a part of you that hopes it’s because he feels the same way. (Sometimes when you’re not by his side, you fantasize about him saying it—“I love you,”—but it always feels slightly off, like imagining Asra being furious with you, or Faust biting.) But more likely, you lament, it’s because he enjoys his ego being stroked, and not in the same way his courtiers often do.

Speaking of stroking…

“You’d best stay still,” Lucio murmurs playfully, leaning over you in his luxurious absurdly-sized bed. His golden hand, equipped with the claws, is delicately dragging up and down your length, and it’s as scary as it is exhilarating. His pace is slow and teasing, and you can feel the subdued magic inside of his arm buzzing against your own.

Lucio’s room is bright, filled with reds and golds, but with the canopy drawn around the bed, it’s a little dim where you lie atop an intricate red silk sheet. Your arms are tied at the wrists beneath your back with a red ribbon, something you think Lucio only decided to do on a whim. It’s not unappealing, but you lament not being able to touch him.

It’s a little difficult to focus on anything, though, with Lucio touching you like this. As your body temperature rises, it’s harder and harder to resist moving, but you manage to keep yourself still.

The slow rhythm is starting to drive you mad. You feel like it will take _hours_ at this rate, and as much as you would like to spend that long being intimate with him, you think you would burn alive with such torturous touches. When you try to get his attention by calling his name, it comes out as a whine.

He snickers to himself, “Yes?” He must have been expecting this. Your face burns.

“I—” you almost don’t want to give in so easily, but it truly is agonizing, “Can you please move faster…?” To your dismay, he stops altogether. “Wait—”

He places his clean right hand over your mouth, silencing you. “I will, on one condition.” When you nod, he grins, shark-like. “Don’t come without my permission, or I’ll have to punish you.”

As much as you’re curious about the bespoke punishment, you’ll do whatever it takes to get him to touch you again. So you nod a second time, and he releases your mouth. You don’t have long to wait before he starts moving again, but this time his pace is so fast that it’s a miracle you don’t buck your hips up in response. The smooth metal of his hand is even smoother with all your pre-come, and it feels divine.

It feels too much, in fact. He’s moving so fast and reaching every part of your erection that you wonder how he expected you to hold yourself back for long. You have to warn him. “L-Lucio, wait, I’m—”

Instantly, his thumb and forefinger squeeze down at the base, keeping you from your orgasm, and you find you’re both upset and relieved. You see Lucio turn to look for something behind him, and with his free hand he lifts up a long, black leather cord. He begins wrapping it around you, around the base of your length, then your balls, and pulls the cord tight, finally tying it off. It’s not tight enough to the point of hurting, but it’s certainly enough to keep you from orgasm, which is painful in its own way.

Then Lucio finally looks at you, smirking. “Let’s see you come with that on,” he says with a laugh. “Now,” his wet golden hand moves up close to your face, “clean this up.”

Clean it? Your face grows hot. He wants you to lick off your own… Impatiently, he pushes it even closer. With a deep breath, you open your mouth, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide one of his clawed fingers in. Staying careful to not nick your tongue on the point, you go about doing as he said. The pre tastes tangy and salty and it’s kind of gross, but it’s not nearly enough to beat out the arousal scorching your insides. Eventually you finish up his first finger and move onto the next one.

Lucio’s eyes remain locked on you as you go, and every now and then, he licks his lips. When you’ve made it to his third finger, he finally speaks. “You’re good with your tongue, aren’t you?” The question is rhetorical. “I think you’ll suck me off when you’re done with this.” You can’t help but shudder with anticipation; Lucio has a cock worth worship.

With this in mind, you hurry to finish cleaning the rest of his hand. He laughs again when you start picking up the pace, “That eager to get your mouth fucked?” Your embarrassed whimper is muffled by his fourth finger.

Once you finish cleaning his thumb, all that’s left is his palm. It’s difficult to get at when you can’t maneuver his hand with your own. You’re about halfway done, licking in the crook between his thumb and palm, when he grinds the heel of his other hand into your erection. Your back arches and you moan loudly at the unexpected touch, so sensitive from being so close but unable to finish.

When you look at Lucio, he just raises an eyebrow as though asking what’s taking you so long. Immediately, you go back to lapping at his hand, and as soon as you finally finish cleaning it, he caresses your cheek with the backs of his fingers, leaving thin trails of your saliva on your face.

Lucio opens his mouth to say something, but after a beat, he closes it again and just leans down to kiss you. It’s rare that he does, and you savor it as much as you can. He opens your mouth with his tongue, and you readily meet him with your own. Lucio kisses exactly how one would expect; demanding, passionate, and unrelenting. As he ravages your mouth, you jerk desperately at the ribbon binding your wrists. You want to touch him, or at least hold onto him so you don’t feel like you’re about to fall apart any second. You become so light-headed from his assault that it’s hard to keep both yours and his saliva in check, and some drools from the corner of your mouth.

Finally, when you feel like you’re about to pass out, he pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes rove over your face, and he reaches down to thumb over your wet and kiss-swollen lips. You kiss his thumb, softly and lovingly, and you see his Adam’s apple bob.

“You love me,” he says. You nod. “Say it.”

“I love you, Lucio.” He shudders, then hauls you up into a sitting position by your shoulders. With more room to move, you try again to free your hands from the ribbon, but again you fail. Lucio is clearly quite skilled at knot-tying.

He leans in to bite and suck on your neck. “Say it again.” When you do, your words come out shaky. “Again.” Every time he requests it, his voice gets more and more raw, and it makes your heart beat fast in your chest. “ _Again_.”

“I love you,” you murmur, “and I’m yours.”

He stops marking you up, and pulls away to look at you. “…You are.” He moves up to his knees. “I should just keep you in here,” he says out of the blue, almost conversationally in contrast to his previously vulnerable tone, as he undoes the ties of his trousers, “I wouldn’t have to worry about you running off, or someone taking you from me.” He pushes them and his undergarments down, then buries the fingers of his right hand deep into your hair. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d get to be with me forever.”

You bite your lip and nod. If you twist his words enough, that could almost be a marriage proposal. (Maybe that’s taking it too far and you’re definitely taking his in-the-moment words too seriously, but no one ever accused you of being pessimistic.) He smirks, then shoves you down to his groin. His cock is red and dripping, and _oh_ you want it so much. But when you try to bend down the few more inches to take it in, Lucio’s grip holds you fast.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he sounds amused, “where are your manners?” You think that’s a bit rich coming from him of all people, but still you comply.

“May I please?”

“You may,” he says with a low laugh, entirely too pleased. He relaxes his grip just enough so you can move, and you take the opportunity before he can change his mind.

Lucio’s dick is decently long, gratifyingly thick, and curved just enough that, when he fucks you, he hits all the right places. In your mouth, it feels like he can just barely fit. But there’s something satisfying about having your mouth so full that you can’t breathe when he’s crammed all the way in.

For a while, he’s fine just letting you blow him on your own, enthusiastic, if a little sloppy. It’s blissful, and it’s almost distracting enough to make you forget how desperately you need to come. But eventually, he stops you, holding you still by the hair again. You look up at his face through your lashes.

Lucio’s eyes are lidded and his lips slightly parted in a way that looks almost dazed, despite his iron grip on your hair. “My turn.” You only have a second to take as much air into your lungs as you can through your nose before he starts thrusting at a decent pace, going deeper into your throat than you could make yourself. It almost makes you gag and choke a few times—Lucio lets out a tantalized purr at the sounds you make—but you succeed in controlling your throat soon enough.

He doesn’t wait long you start speeding up, and his panting evolves into moaning. His moans are breathy and pitched on the higher side. It’s absolutely one of your favorite sounds (up there with his laugh and him calling your name), and you never get to hear it when he’s fucking you because of your own noise.

“Oh, dearest,” his free left hand moves to wind into your hair too, and it gets tangled in the joints, “you always take me so well.” You shiver at the compliment, and rub your tongue against his length as much as you’re able. Once more, you try to extricate your hands from the ribbon, and once more, it holds tight. You can’t stop the troubled little grunt that comes muffled.

Lucio notices, and yanks you off his length. As he rubs it idly against your cheek, smearing mixed spit and pre-come on the skin, he says, “You sound so frustrated, kitten.” And it’s a statement, but he clearly wants to know why or he wouldn’t have freed your mouth in the first place.

“I-I…” you swallow the excess fluids in your mouth, “I want to touch you. _Please_.”

He hums, pretends to think about it for a second, then rams himself back down your throat. “Maybe later,” he laughs again. Somehow, you still find yourself heavy with arousal at his disregard.

It’s only a little while longer before he pulls you off of him again. But then time, he doesn’t say anything, he just holds you still while fisting his cock at a feverish pace, aimed directly at your face. You feel your face tingle with heat; is he going to come on your face? The thought makes you gasp—at the exact same moment he shoots off with a loud groan. Hot, white semen splashes on your cheeks, your nose, and over one eye that barely closes in time. A second pulse lands over your open mouth as well, some of it even landing on your tongue. Somehow he manages to keep an eye open, watching as he coats your face, and the mortification you feel makes both your stomach flutter and your bound erection throb. Unconsciously, you swallow down what made it inside your mouth.

When Lucio is finished, he lets out a contented sigh. “You look good like that,” he comments as he pulls his trousers and undergarments back up and sits back down. “But it wouldn’t be pleasant if we left it there, I suppose.” The way he’s leering at you makes his words seem disingenuous. That's proven when he takes a small swipe of it off your cheek and pushes the dirtied finger into your mouth. He does it again after you swallow it, and for some time he just feeds you his own come while he stares straight at you, taking you in. It’s as sensual as it is obscene, and when you’re done and he finally releases your hair, you fall over into his lap, boneless and quivering.

“Can’t take it anymore, can you?” he asks, faux-sympathetic. He rubs your back with his right hand as he brushes your hair with his claws. “You’ll have to, though,” He looks absolutely devilish when you turn your head to look at him in alarm, “I’m not done with you yet.” Surprisingly gently, he moves you onto your back and spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. He looks around the enormous bed for something, then with a little ‘ _aha_!’ he retrieves a vial of oil. The very sight of it makes your hole twitch instinctively in response.

“L- _Lucio_ , I can’t—I need to—” You cut yourself off when he clicks his tongue at you.

“You can and you _will_ ,” he says, voice commanding, while he starts dousing his fingers in the liquid. When they’re properly covered, he reaches down to slide a finger into your entrance, and you let out a strangled whine. You’re still dreadfully sensitive, and even though he hasn’t even brushed your prostate, you still feel wildly overstimulated. You definitely can’t stay still now, and your hips jerk this way and that. To your surprise, Lucio doesn’t stop you. He just laughs sadistically and inserts another finger.

He fingers you for what feels like ages, eventually adding a third and fourth one. But the two of you are startled when you hear a knock from the door. Lucio looks irritated, but he just ignores whoever’s at the door. Unfortunately the knock comes again, and his irritated look goes to murderous in a second.

“What do you want!?” he yells at the door, voice shrill.

There’s a muffled squeak, and then, “M-milord, there’s a Master Verona here to see you…?”

The way Lucio growls at the name is a little intimidating. “Tell him I said no chance in hell and if he ever comes here again, I’ll feed him to the eels!” He punches the bed beside you with a clenched golden fist.

“As you say, milord…” With that, the servant leaves, and Lucio turns his attention back to you. There’s something different about his bearing now, more aggressive than his earlier relaxed temperament. You wonder who this Verona person is, what he wants, and why Lucio hates him so much. When you ask, Lucio grins, but it’s malicious and deadly.

“Some noble that keeps insisting I let him see you. He doesn’t say it but,” he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you again, much more rough and mean than before and you start writhing and gasping for breath again, “I know he just wants to take you from me and fuck you. He's wasting his time though. You’re not just some—” He cuts himself off with a scoff, and he glares, but you can tell it’s not really at you. “Anyway, I don’t intend to ever let him. You love _me_ , not him.”

You want to echo him, make sure he knows you wouldn’t ever love anyone else, but you feel feverish and hot and light-headed, and a little like you’re about to fall unconscious, and words are beyond you right now. Lucio seems to realize this, and chuckles. He reaches his free hand to the cord fastened around your cock, and, _mercifully_ , he cuts it.

With one more sharp jab at your prostate, you finally come, harder than you probably ever have in your life. You feel like an erupting volcano, liquid heat splattering all over your torso, and your body spasms violently, Lucio’s fingers slipping out of you.

You think you black out a little, because when you finally come back to yourself, your eyes are shut and there’s something wet dragging along your chest. When you open your eyes to see what it is, you see Lucio licking up your ejaculate. A tiny spark of arousal flickers in your gut, despite the mind-blowing orgasm you just experienced. He didn’t have to, surely there’s linens somewhere in the room he could use to clean you up. But he didn’t.

He doesn’t notice you’re watching him until he finishes, and his cheeks turn a little pink when he does. “You’re finally awake,” he says petulantly, sitting back up so he can cross his arms. “You were out so long I got bored.”

“It can’t have been that long,” you point out.

With a scoff, Lucio tosses his head a little to get some strands of hair out of his face. “It was too long.”

You laugh a little, then sit up, hundreds of different muscles in your body complaining. That’s when you realize your hands have been freed. You notice the ribbon a couple feet away to your side. Without hesitation you lean forward to wrap your arms around Lucio’s neck, burying your head in his collarbone. You want to make up for all that time you couldn’t touch him. Lucio just snickers at you, teasing, and wraps his right arm around your waist.

“I love you,” you mutter into his skin, “I love you. I _love_ you…”

Lucio’s arm squeezes tight, pulling you even closer. “I know you do.” He sounds wistful, and you wonder what he's thinking about.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is once again from the poem ["To Artina" by Langston Hughes](https://genius.com/Langston-hughes-to-artina-annotated)


End file.
